


the sea; the scrotumtightening sea

by faorism



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M, Past Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-06
Updated: 2010-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faorism/pseuds/faorism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dejected, Harry visits a young Severus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sea; the scrotumtightening sea

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rather old work that I've finally decided to revamp and archive here.

He stands halting but small, waiting with the tumbling river just a stone's throw away from his feet. You wonder briefly why there is no fence to dissuade passerbys from wandering too close to the edge, where a false step can mean a fall into the polluted swell of water; but you settle the thought with a quick glance at the exhausted street, crowd and crumbling textile factories around you and him.

(No one cared enough to bother.)

You may not have met this boy—so young and lithe and already bitter—but you do know him. In your mind you hold his face, his posture, his glower, the cacophony of disenchanted grunts he makes twenty-one—twenty-two—twenty-three years from today as you kneel before him. ("Look at me!" he commands brutally as you choke around him.) In every moment of every day all you can do is know and think and feel him. Now you see him. His body—changed now, changed later—is still the shadow you have/will bitten/bite in exalted orgasm. Tomorrow, he boards an impossible train for the first time, and in twenty-one years you fall to your knees for him for the first time; in nine you are born, in twenty-nine you don't want to be alone any longer, and in twenty-seven years an order pinches all his wrinkles into ugly lunula wells: "Look... at... me..." he says, prone and dying. "Look... at... me..."

And you want to tell him that you listened... that you still obey. But he stares at the rotted waters rushing through the heart of Spinner's End, lost in adolescent thought.

(You do not see his face.)  
  



End file.
